dedicated to the someone who's irreplaceable (but people who can get the ideas that I'm driving at should think through them too):

He laid still in the wooden box. Well, not that he wanted to, but I guess he just didn’t have any other choice. He was the central of attention. Everyone walked around the wooden box that he laid in, finding chances to peek into the box, to peek at him. He can’t help but wonder if he looked nice enough for these people. All along in his life, he had been trained to keep up with appearances: formal occasions call for formal dressing; that’s what he had learned since young, and what he had adhered to. He supposed that the occasion calls for formal dressing, but this time round he had no other choice. He could no longer dress up for himself. He had to let the makeup artist do it for him, up down everything.

He realised that everyone around him came in formal clothing as well. Collared shirt, tie…he wondered what was happening. All he knows is that he can no longer move. Well, he couldn’t move his body at least. He found people crying – all along for the three days. He found his beloved ones crying. But not in front of others. They only cried in their hearts. He knew they did, well that was what the least he could do for them after living with them for so many years - to understand them. He very much wanted to ask them to stop crying, but he couldn’t do it. He felt helpless, but at the same time fortunate. The halos around him, the love he felt from God…everything beats whatever was happening around him. He found himself smiling. He knew that they will be able to take it, if that was what God planned for him.

Seeing that it was pointless for him to continue harping on it since he couldn’t do anything anyway, he continued looking around. He realised that everyone gave him flowers. Wreaths were around everyone. Some from his dearest friends, some from his family, and others from organisations like PAP and MOE. Their logos were emblazoned bright and big around the flowers. He wondered if that was some logo design competition, or some exhibition where the organisations sponsored a large sum of money and therefore were given a chance to flash their logos, announcing to the whole world about their contributions. Whatever it was, he couldn’t be bothered. He was then in a happy place, and he knew that he wouldn’t allow this worldly issues to bother him.

“James was a…” a note that his colleague was writing caught his eyes. He realised that everyone else, other than him was writing. “James helped in the event of the year”, “James was known to be nice to his family”…everywhere, everyone was writing about him. However, he detected pauses here and there. Everyone stopped at the word “James…” They would write, pause, look at each other, nod, and continue writing, as though they understood the plight that everyone, including them was in. He wondered why that had so little to write about him. Hasn’t he contributed enough to the company? Hasn’t he been a nice guy to everyone?

He desperately looked around. He tried locating for notes that said he was their best friend, notes that said he showed that he loved them, notes that said they care about him…but he couldn’t. Finally, he realised he knew what was going on. Every wake, it was a custom for his group of colleagues to come together and write notes to the deceased family members, in recognition of the deceased contributions to each and every one of their lives. Usually, everyone wrote about superficial contributions because none of them knew one another very well. They did meet up everyday, they worked till wee hours together, they accomplished great heights for the company together…yet they were merely acquaintances. They did not have the time for each other at all. Everyday, everyone would gather around the office table and discuss about issues. On the surface, they seem like the most united team, yet they never shared secrets, and they kept their private lives unknown to each other. He remembered an occasion when the whole company did not know where to go for a wake – because no one ever knew where that colleague of his stayed! He wondered if the same situation happened this time round. He tried recalling if he ever did reveal to them about where he stayed…but he couldn’t remember anything.

He stopped trying after a while, when the sounds of distant cries snapped the thought out of his mind. He darted hither and thither, trying to locate the source of tears. Finally, he saw her. A young lady clad in black, weeping as though she was a young girl who had lost her family members. He turned around to look at her clearly. He wanted to make out who she was. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t remember who she was. He didn’t even had any traces of memories pointing to the idea that he had ever seen this lady before. However, there she was, crying, hard. He didn’t understand why. While the family members of his were acting as though nothing had happened, why was this unknown lady crying out her heart, and expressing such deep grief?

There and then, he stopped. He was tired. The entire place suddenly seemed so distant and unknown to him. He couldn’t understand why everything was happening. Wreaths, tears, notes…all from people he didn’t know. Everyone was clad in formal clothing, pretending to grief. All so superficial…Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, and he knew that it’s finished. After the frown, a smile then dangled on his face. He finally realised that he should be happy that he didn’t understand. Because that at least meant that he was no longer like them. He was over it. He’s now with God, in the happy place.

(995 words)

dedicated to the someone who's irreplaceable (but people who can get the ideas that I'm driving at should think through them too):

He laid still in the wooden box. Well, not that he wanted to, but I guess he just didn’t have any other choice. He was the central of attention. Everyone walked around the wooden box that he laid in, finding chances to peek into the box, to peek at him. He can’t help but wonder if he looked nice enough for these people. All along in his life, he had been trained to keep up with appearances: formal occasions call for formal dressing; that’s what he had learned since young, and what he had adhered to. He supposed that the occasion calls for formal dressing, but this time round he had no other choice. He could no longer dress up for himself. He had to let the makeup artist do it for him, up down everything.

He realised that everyone around him came in formal clothing as well. Collared shirt, tie…he wondered what was happening. All he knows is that he can no longer move. Well, he couldn’t move his body at least. He found people crying – all along for the three days. He found his beloved ones crying. But not in front of others. They only cried in their hearts. He knew they did, well that was what the least he could do for them after living with them for so many years - to understand them. He very much wanted to ask them to stop crying, but he couldn’t do it. He felt helpless, but at the same time fortunate. The halos around him, the love he felt from God…everything beats whatever was happening around him. He found himself smiling. He knew that they will be able to take it, if that was what God planned for him.

Seeing that it was pointless for him to continue harping on it since he couldn’t do anything anyway, he continued looking around. He realised that everyone gave him flowers. Wreaths were around everyone. Some from his dearest friends, some from his family, and others from organisations like PAP and MOE. Their logos were emblazoned bright and big around the flowers. He wondered if that was some logo design competition, or some exhibition where the organisations sponsored a large sum of money and therefore were given a chance to flash their logos, announcing to the whole world about their contributions. Whatever it was, he couldn’t be bothered. He was then in a happy place, and he knew that he wouldn’t allow this worldly issues to bother him.

“James was a…” a note that his colleague was writing caught his eyes. He realised that everyone else, other than him was writing. “James helped in the event of the year”, “James was known to be nice to his family”…everywhere, everyone was writing about him. However, he detected pauses here and there. Everyone stopped at the word “James…” They would write, pause, look at each other, nod, and continue writing, as though they understood the plight that everyone, including them was in. He wondered why that had so little to write about him. Hasn’t he contributed enough to the company? Hasn’t he been a nice guy to everyone?

He desperately looked around. He tried locating for notes that said he was their best friend, notes that said he showed that he loved them, notes that said they care about him…but he couldn’t. Finally, he realised he knew what was going on. Every wake, it was a custom for his group of colleagues to come together and write notes to the deceased family members, in recognition of the deceased contributions to each and every one of their lives. Usually, everyone wrote about superficial contributions because none of them knew one another very well. They did meet up everyday, they worked till wee hours together, they accomplished great heights for the company together…yet they were merely acquaintances. They did not have the time for each other at all. Everyday, everyone would gather around the office table and discuss about issues. On the surface, they seem like the most united team, yet they never shared secrets, and they kept their private lives unknown to each other. He remembered an occasion when the whole company did not know where to go for a wake – because no one ever knew where that colleague of his stayed! He wondered if the same situation happened this time round. He tried recalling if he ever did reveal to them about where he stayed…but he couldn’t remember anything.

He stopped trying after a while, when the sounds of distant cries snapped the thought out of his mind. He darted hither and thither, trying to locate the source of tears. Finally, he saw her. A young lady clad in black, weeping as though she was a young girl who had lost her family members. He turned around to look at her clearly. He wanted to make out who she was. But he couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t remember who she was. He didn’t even had any traces of memories pointing to the idea that he had ever seen this lady before. However, there she was, crying, hard. He didn’t understand why. While the family members of his were acting as though nothing had happened, why was this unknown lady crying out her heart, and expressing such deep grief?

There and then, he stopped. He was tired. The entire place suddenly seemed so distant and unknown to him. He couldn’t understand why everything was happening. Wreaths, tears, notes…all from people he didn’t know. Everyone was clad in formal clothing, pretending to grief. All so superficial…Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, and he knew that it’s finished. After the frown, a smile then dangled on his face. He finally realised that he should be happy that he didn’t understand. Because that at least meant that he was no longer like them. He was over it. He’s now with God, in the happy place.

(995 words)